Five Times Dick Danced With His Family
by CamsthiSky
Summary: ...and one time they all dance with him.
1. Bruce

"I don't get why I _have_ to learn," Dick says with a pout as they cross the threshold of the manor. Alfred's taking the car to the garage, and Bruce hasn't slept in two days, and Dick's still frowning at him as he walks backwards into the foyer. "It's not like anybody's gonna care."

"It's the principle of the thing." Bruce wishes his voice wasn't so flat. Dick plows on like he hadn't heard him, though.

"I already _know_ how to dance," Dick tells him matter-of-factly, deciding to prove it by kicking off his dress shoes that Bruce had gotten him specifically for today's dance lesson and spinning his way into the den. "See? Do you see, Bruce?"

Bruce grunts, following the nine-year-old until he can collapse on a couch. He closes his eyes, and he doesn't think Dick stops spinning for even a second. He's going to get dizzy and stop. Eventually. Probably.

"Bruce."

"Hrnn."

"Bruuuce."

"What, Dick."

He opens his eyes and Dick's standing in front of him, hands on his hips, blue eyes glinting with mischief. The same mischief Bruce is sure brought that old vase crashing from the second story landing last week, he's sure.

"Dance with me."

Bruce's answer is immediate. "No."

Dick rolls his eyes. "Hey, you're the one who signed me up for rich people lessons. Now you have to help me practice."

"There's no music," Bruce says.

Dick's eyes brighten and he scrambles towards the radio before Bruce can stop him. He hits the on button, and then turns around with a grin. "Now there is!"

Bruce, seeing absolutely no way out of this, stands up. Dick's got a stubborn look in his eye, and Bruce is tired. Dick, an everlasting source of energy, bounces towards him, grabbing his hand and leading him towards the middle of the room, where there's just a carpet.

"Okay," Dick says seriously. He maneuvers Bruce's hand so that it's resting on Dick's shoulder, and the other one so that it's holding Dick's hand, while Dick's other—tiny—hand rests solidly on Bruce's hip. "Alright, so _first thing_ , we take a step this way."

Dick leads Bruce through a few steps, completely out of time to the rock music playing on the video, and Bruce follows the little boy's lead like it isn't the weirdest thing he's ever done—because it's not. He's done a lot weirder things, and Dick's tongue sticking out between his teeth as he watches their feet is making Bruce's heart stutter in his chest. He feels his shoulder relax a fraction, and a small smile creep its way onto his lips.

"Now what?" Bruce asks once they've got a nice waltz pattern going and Dick isn't watching his feet the entire time. He's actually quite good at it.

"Now," Dick says dramatically, grin lighting up his entire face, "it's time for the spin."

"Alright," Bruce says easily.

"Okay, crouch down," Dick says.

Bruce stops. Blinks. Crouch down? What does—oh. Bruce bites back a smile as he crouches down to sits on his haunches, and Dick lifts their joined hands as high in the air as he can and Bruce takes slow steps to complete his spin and face Dick again. Dick's buzzing with excitement. Almost _literally._

"Okay, okay," Dick says, bouncing up and down as Bruce stands back up. "Now you've gotta do me, B. Spin me!"

Bruce laughs, deep, but quiet, and takes lifts their hands again so Dick can complete a few turns. He goes about five times before he takes a wrong step and runs into Bruce's legs. Bruce, tiredness completely taken over by this energetic child, scoops Dick up, settling him on his hip.

"How about _I_ lead this time," Bruce suggests, and Dick snickers, his nose crinkling.

"You just not used to be in charge, old man."

Bruce keeps on arm around Dick's back, taking Dick's left hand in his right and holding it out like they're about to tango. Dick keeps an arm around Bruce's neck and as the music fades into an old eighties song Bruce used to listen to years and years ago, Bruce starts to dance as exaggeratedly as he can, and before long, they're both in fits of laughter.

"Will you come to my next lesson with me?" Dick asks a while later while they're curled up on the couch together. Bruce is almost asleep. "Dancing with you was a lot more fun than dancing with the other kids at the rich people lessons. They're all _super_ boring."

Bruce smiles, feeling Dick's head settle onto his chest. "Wouldn't miss it."


	2. Alfred

"Alfred, have you seen Bruce?" Dick asks, poking his head into the kitchen. "I need his help."

"I'm afraid you are going to have to settle for my aid today, Master Dick," Alfred says, pulling the last batch of cookies out of the oven and setting the tray atop of the stove. He turns to where Dick has clambered onto a stool at the island. "Master Bruce was called into the office earlier this morning for an emergency board meeting."

Dick's face falls. "Oh."

"Is there something in particular that you needed Master Bruce for?" Alfred asks. He slides a spatula under a cookie and transfers it carefully onto the cooling rack.

Dick shrugs, slumping over the counter. All of his previous exuberance is gone, and Alfred can't help but think how wrong it looks after weeks of the boy being so eager to spend time with Bruce. As of late, it has made the manor a much more lively place. A nice change from the quiet, almost lonely house from a few months ago, before the eight year old had come into their lives.

Dick has even made this empty house a home, and he finds he doesn't really at all.

"Is it urgent?" Alfred wonders when far too many minutes pass without a word spoken.

Dick shrugs again, fidgeting in his seat. "Not really. I'm bored and I wanted to use the pool, and Bruce says I'm not allowed in there by myself." Dick perks up a little, his hopeful, blue eyes lighting up. "Unless you want to come with me?"

"I'm afraid I'm not much of a swimmer," Alfred tells him.

An idea pops into his head. One he can't quite shake. He walks over the old radio in the corner under the cabinet and switches it on. It takes a moment, and white noise fills the spacious kitchen.

The radio— _his_ radio, really—is one of Alfred's favorite things to fill the quiet days that pass by during Bruce's odd hours away from the manor. Before their energetic eight year old had been added to their small ranks, Alfred had indulged himself in the soft noise of the radio whenever. But with a child's laughter ringing through the halls, Alfred hasn't had a reason to turn it on.

"If you would so indulge me, I believe I have another idea," Alfred says.

Quiet music fills the air, replacing the white noise. Alfred holds out a hand in Dick's direction.

Dick's grin is a bright thing. A smile that reaches his eyes and lights up his face and permeates the very air. That makes breathing just a bit easier. That makes his heart just a bit lighter. His constant grief just a bit smaller. And if this is the effect the young boy has on him, then Alfred can only imagine what effect it has on Bruce.

Alfred can't help the small smile that tugs at his lips as Dick slides from the stool and quite literally _bounces_ forwards to take Alfred's hand. The butler, pulls the boy another couple steps towards him, until Dick's small bare feet are planted firmly on top of Alfred's shoes. Alfred keeps a hold of both the boy's small hands and carefully begins to move in time to the music.

Dick is giggling before they're even ten seconds into their dance, and Alfred can't help but exaggerate their movements just a tad more. Dick stands up on his tip toes, as they sway and step, and they continue that way for several minutes.

The music changes to a more recent song and Dick gasps. "Alfred! I know this one!"

"Well, how about you lead us in this one, Master Dick," Alfred suggests, and Dick hops off Alfred's shoes, pulling Alfred around the kitchen with him in some strange hybrid between a skip and a dance, and by the end of it, just before Bruce is due back at the manor, the two of them are in fits of laughter.

Yes, Alfred wouldn't trade this bright boy of pure sunshine and joy for perhaps anything, and he's grateful for the light he's brought into this empty, lonely world of theirs.


End file.
